


Ways to Say Goodbye

by st_mick



Series: Niffler [42]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Torchwood
Genre: Going through Lisa's things, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Jack being thoughtful, Picture the most obnoxious shade of pink you can imagine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 09:15:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20945933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_mick/pseuds/st_mick
Summary: The last week of Ianto's suspension sees his friends leaving him to himself.  Jack makes an offer that surprises Ianto.  The wizard goes through Lisa's belongings, which takes a heavier toll than expected.





	Ways to Say Goodbye

The last week of Ianto’s suspension passed quietly enough. His friends were slowly leaving him to himself more and more, knowing that he would need a few days to himself before returning to work. He had gained back about ten pounds, thanks to Molly Weasley’s cooking. He was still quiet and subdued, but he was more engaged with his surroundings. He even participated in conversations, when he felt inclined.

He went for long walks at least twice a day – once with one of his friends, and once on his own. When he returned, he usually retreated to his room to nap. He had slowly gone from needing two long naps to just the one, but he still kept the routine, if only to have some moments to himself and, invariably, his journal. If his eyes were red and swollen from crying when he emerged from his room, the others were too kind to comment.

His friends left him to himself that Friday, though a few did pop by to check in on Saturday afternoon. Jack showed up to invite him to the pub on Saturday evening, and Ianto was ridiculously happy to have something to do. His friends had all tidied the place before they left, and with no chores to do and no social life to speak of, he had been a bit at loose ends.

Jack would never have told him, but he had noticed Ianto wandering from room to room and had taken pity on him. It was still too soon for the younger man to be able to focus on anything like a book, and he could find no movies to tempt him, so he was just wandering around his flat, trying to find something to do. He had been tempted to disapparate with his broom, but darkness fell early as autumn unfolded, and he wasn’t certain he had permission, anyway.

He cursed himself for not having more hobbies, and promised he would do something about that. In the meantime, he and Jack had a pleasant meal together. The conversation was relaxed, and between comfortable silences (Ianto wondered how Jack had mastered that, not realizing that it takes both conversationalists to keep awkwardness at bay) they spoke of nonsense things. 

As they finished eating, Jack shifted in his chair, a bit. If Ianto didn’t know better, he would think Jack was uncomfortable. “What is it?” he asked.

Jack rubbed the back of his neck. “There’s something…” he looked uncertainly at Ianto. “I…” he stalled again.

“Jack, you’re making me nervous,” Ianto said.

“I’m sorry. It’s nothing bad, just… I thought you should know that I asked Toshiko to look into Lisa’s medical records.”

Ianto frowned. “Why?”

“I… I wanted to do something,” Jack attempted to reel in his nerves. “I had her look up the baby’s due date.”

Ianto sat back, staring at Jack, attempting to process what the older man was saying. “You could have asked,” he said quietly, realizing he was not angry. Jack wanted to ‘do something’. It was a thoughtful gesture, but what did it mean?

“I know. But you were still working through some things. And I needed time, to remember,” he frowned. “I’m a long way from home, like you guessed. And I don’t remember a lot, but there was this one ritual. It was specifically for children lost before they were born.”

Ianto’s eyes softened. “Why do you remember that one, Jack?”

Jack sighed. “My mother had two mid-pregnancy miscarriages and one still-birth. I saw the ritual enough that I have remembered it.”

“I’m sorry for that,” Ianto said quietly. Then he reached across the table and grasped Jack’s forearm. “But you’ve used the ritual yourself, haven’t you?”

A myriad of emotions cycled through Jack’s eyes. Alarm, first. Then surprise. Then amused resignation. Finally, a flash of grief. “How did you know?”

Ianto leaned back, again. He wasn’t entirely certain, himself. He had a bit of the sight, yes. And it was usually just a matter of knowing something, rather than seeing it, as Luna did. Perhaps that was the reason. He could not tell Jack that, however. Maybe someday, but not now. He shrugged. “Like I said, I had a strong feeling that you knew what I was going through.”

“Yeah,” Jack answered quietly. He briefly thought about dissembling, but he knew he couldn’t. Not about this. He sighed. “My wife died in an epidemic. She was in her second trimester. We had talked about names.”

Ianto reached out, again. “I’m sorry, Jack.” His eyes were bright with sympathy, his own pain set aside for just a moment as he offered comfort to his friend.

Jack marveled at the heart of Ianto Jones. Then he gave himself a shake, and a stern talking to. The Doctor could arrive at any moment, and Jack could not afford any emotional entanglements. No, he would help Ianto, as a friend. It would be his way of making amends. Once the younger man had a chance to heal, Jack might have a go, but he was not going to get… entangled.

He could be impressed with the generosity of spirit of this beautiful young man without getting attached.

He could.

Really.

He ignored the slight stutter in his chest and frowned at the old ache that had come up, unbidden. Or perhaps Ianto had summoned it. Either way, it was unwanted and uninvited. “It was a long time ago,” he said, his voice gruff.

Ianto nodded. “Everyone says it will get better, with time.” He peered at Jack closely. “I think they’re lying. Are they?”

Jack smiled at Ianto’s direct question. “Yes and no,” he answered. “It does get better. Time dulls the ache. But it never stops hurting. Then again, I don’t think you’d want it to, would you?”

Ianto considered. “If I’m going to be forced to endure this bloody life, then I need to remember them,” Ianto said, surprising Jack with the bitter edge his voice had taken on. “So I suppose the pain is synonymous with the life,” he concluded, looking angry and resentful before sorrow and despair settled onto his mien. Finally, he was able to school his features. He smiled blandly at Jack, his mask firmly back in place. “I shouldn’t complain. Sorry about that.”

“Ianto,” Jack reached out, this time. “It’s… It’ll…” he was terrified by what he’d just heard and seen.

“It’s fine, Jack,” Ianto shut him down. “I could have refused to make those promises. We’ll just call it my penance.”

“Life should not be a punishment, Ianto,” Jack exclaimed.

“And yet, that is _exactly_ what it is,” Ianto answered fiercely, pulling his arm away. “But it’s no less than what I deserve, and I accept that. But it’s asking too much to expect me to call it anything other than what it is.”

Jack felt gutted. Everything, all of the so-called progress Ianto had made. It was nothing more than him shouldering a burden of guilt, believing that he deserved to be punished for merely surviving.

But then Jack realized something. Until Ianto healed, life _would be_ something to be suffered. If the younger man could find meaning in the suffering, then perhaps it would make it easier for him to endure. He sat back, looking at Ianto, who was now self-consciously pushing the remains of his dinner around his plate.

“I’d like to ask for another promise, Ianto,” Jack said quietly.

Ianto looked up, a startled look quickly fading to a resigned expression. He quirked an eyebrow.

“Please promise me that you’ll at least consider the possibility that in time, life can be something other than a punishment to be endured.”

“Is that what you believe?” Ianto asked, curious. 

Jack was reminded just how young Ianto was. He wanted to believe Jack, but he was having difficulty summoning the wherewithal. Jack felt himself flush slightly under Ianto’s unerring stare. “I am open to considering that possibility, yes,” he answered as honestly as he was able, giving Ianto a small smile. “And sometimes, that openness is rewarded.”

Ianto nodded, looking thoughtful. “Thank you for being honest,” he said quietly. "I’m tired of the lies and platitudes, even if they are well-intentioned, and from people that I love.” He looked at Jack, ready to get the conversation back on track. “So you found out that the delivery date was to be next Saturday?” Ianto had been doing his level best to avoid thinking about it.

Jack nodded. “It’s a naming ritual. It can be… cathartic. It’s a way of honoring the life that could have been.”

Despite his heavy heart, Ianto thought it sounded like a lovely idea, and he said so. “What does it entail?”

Jack hesitated. “I’ve noticed some of the things you say, sometimes,” he began. “I think maybe some of it might be familiar.”

Ianto looked at him quizzically.

“It’s just that not many people say ‘gods and goddesses’,” he smiled.

“You do.”

Jack nodded, smiling again. “Anyway, it’s performed in the open air. Earth, air, fire, and water are called upon. You’ll need to bring,” he hesitated again, “some token of the child that you feel you couldn’t bear to part with.”

Ianto blinked. “It’s a sacrifice.”

“It’s an offering. To what might have been.”

“Haven’t I lost enough?” Ianto asked, his voice a whisper of despair.

“It helps,” Jack promised. “Can you trust me, when I promise that it helps?”

Ianto blinked away the tears and nodded. “Of course, Jack. Sorry. It just hit me, I only have the ultrasound picture, and…”

“You don’t need to tell me,” Jack quickly interjected. "But the picture can be reproduced, so I don’t think it would have the same impact.”

“I understand,” Ianto nodded. “Thank you, Jack,” he said.

They finished their meal and parted company, Jack hopeful (but still concerned) and Ianto thoughtful.

***

Ianto woke early on Sunday morning and found himself heading to Torchwood’s storage area, arriving just after first light. Toshiko had kindly marked the unit number on the key, so he easily found it, but then he stood staring at the door for a good quarter hour as the sun rose higher and he worked up the nerve to open the door.

He had brought several boxes, and as he unpacked the boxes in the storage unit, he methodically sorted Lisa’s belongings and repacked everything, carefully and lovingly. He wept as he fought to remember the beautiful, vibrant woman rather than the metal-clad beauty who had endured such agony, or the creature that had invaded and destroyed his beloved from within.

He found himself holding one of her sweaters to his face, the soft material catching his tears as he tried in vain to detect the scent of her perfume. He repacked her clothing, his heart heavy. The remaining boxes included some of her books and photos, jewellery, and bric-a-brac. He set aside books that had been mutual favorites, intending to replace his copies with hers. 

He went through the photos, carefully packing away her family photos, filled with the faces of strangers. He kept some of her pictures from childhood and all of their pictures together, smiling through his tears at happy memories before the grief stole his smile away, once more.

Finally, in a small box tucked in one of the larger ones, he found what had begun this task. He found himself on his knees on the cold concrete floor as he opened the box and looked at the few items inside. 

That day, that last, beautiful day, as they had left the doctor’s office with their ultrasound picture showing a healthy baby girl, they had gone to a baby store. They had put off the trip, wanting to know whether to go for pink gear or blue. Lisa had been convinced that Ianto would want a son, and while he had not consciously shied from the idea, he had felt a certain degree of trepidation, considering what little experience he had of fathers and sons.

But when the doctor had told them it was a girl, it was like his heart exploded with the joy of it. He was perfectly prepared to be wrapped around a little finger (whenever he wasn’t wrapped around Lisa’s, of course), and he was a complete idiot when they arrived at the store, looking at everything pink.

They had decided to behave themselves, and only allowed one item, each for that first visit. Ianto had picked a delicate pink blanket, and Lisa had chosen a little dress. They had made it to the till, still retaining a modicum of self-control, when Ianto spotted them in the five-pound discount bin. It was a pair of knit crocheted baby booties in an almost lurid shade of bubblegum pink. 

“Ianto,” Lisa had growled in a warning tone, though her eyes were smiling at the delight in his.

“It’s less than my weekly coffee treat,” he said, holding the booties to his chest as though she might try to pry them from his hands. “I just won’t get one, this week.”

Lisa huffed, then grinned, kissing him soundly as she grabbed the bright yellow ducky booties from the same bin.

Now, on that cold, hard floor, he continued to weep as he looked at the blanket and the little dress, and the ducky booties before placing them all carefully back in the box. He put the pink booties in his pocket and put the small box with the other things to take home.

He continued going through the boxes, and by the time he was done, it was a bit after noon and he had filled a copy paper box with the few items he did not want to part with. He reflected with sadness at how a life that had been lived, _really_ lived – with such relish and vivacity and enthusiasm – could be reduced to a dozen or so boxes in a dusty storage unit.

He sighed. This wasn’t what remained of Lisa. Lisa lived in his memory, and he would cherish those memories, for all his days. He was deeply saddened that he had no wizarding photos of Lisa. He’d had permission to tell her, once they were engaged. That would have been the weekend away they’d planned. He was going to get Luna to help explain. They’d all met her, of course. After all, the DA got together far too often for that to have been avoided.

He carried the box to his car and cast one more look at the storage unit, knowing it was extremely unlikely that he would ever set foot in there again. Then he drove home. He could feel Jack watching as he switched out the books and set out the few items he had decided to keep. He set the photos on the table, along with Lisa’s scrapbooking supplies that he had retrieved.

He spent the next two hours putting the photos into a scrapbook. He then binned the leftover scrapbooking items (one hobby he could now confirm no interest in), put the box of books by the door to donate to the library, and set the scrapbook on one of the bookshelves.

Then he turned off the light and walked slowly to his bedroom with the small box of baby items to be stowed in the back of his wardrobe, to be brought back out whenever he wished to remember.

***

Jack had been idly working on paperwork, mostly as an excuse to watch the feed from Ianto’s flat. The younger man had been gone all morning, but he returned around noon, carrying a box. Jack immediately knew where Ianto had been. He watched as Ianto unpacked the box, trading books for some on his shelves and setting out a few knick-knacks. 

Then he sat and spent a couple of hours putting together a scrapbook. After he’d cleaned everything up, he headed to his bedroom. Jack didn’t think anything of it, since Ianto had been napping every day to try to overcome his exhaustion. It had only been within the last few days that the tired, worn-down look had begun to fade.

Jack frowned when he realized that Ianto had most likely not eaten lunch, and possibly not even breakfast. But then a series of callouts kept him busy for the remainder of the day and well into the evening. It was almost midnight when Jack returned to the hub, and he fell into his bed, exhausted.

The next morning, he emerged from his bunker, refreshed. After going out for a coffee and a pastry, he settled down at his desk to finish his reports for the previous day. He spoke to Toshiko and Owen when they arrived, but kept at it. He did not notice Tosh entering his office until she spoke.

“Jack?”

“Yes?” he looked up at her and smiled. “Good weekend?”

“Lovely, thank you.” She frowned. “I checked on the feed in Ianto’s flat.

Jack nodded, but she hesitated.

“What is it?” he asked.

“He hasn’t left his bedroom since two o’clock yesterday afternoon,” she said quietly.

“What?” he asked, surprised. Then he muttered, “Damn.”

“What?” she echoed.

“He went through Lisa’s things, yesterday.”

Tosh’s eyes widened. “So the things in the box…”

“Were things he decided to keep,” Jack answered.

“He’s not answering his phone,” she worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “I’m worried about him.”

Jack nodded. “How about we go take him some breakfast?”

She smiled, relieved that Jack wanted to check on Ianto, as well. 

***

Ianto had slept for more than eighteen hours. He was lightheaded when the banging on his door woke him. Confused, rubbed his eyes as he stumbled to the door. The light was all wrong. What time was it, anyway? His confusion deepened when he opened the door to find Jack and Toshiko stood there, holding a tray of coffees and a bag from which the most delicious smells were wafting.

“Hello?” he said, looking adorably rumpled and befuddled. Jack decided to take careful note, because he was certain it was a rare look for his archivist.

“Good morning,” Tosh grinned, clearly enjoying the situation, herself. Then her smile faded. “Are you all right?”

Ianto’s head was swimming. “Probably stood up too fast,” he muttered, hoping the wave of dizziness would pass before he fell in a heap at their feet. “Would you like to come in?”

Jack and Tosh followed Ianto into the living room, where he practically fell onto the sofa. Tosh sat beside him. “When was the last time you ate, Ianto?”

Ianto shook his head. “Last night.” He looked more confused when Tosh shook her head. “At the pub,” he turned to Jack. “Tell her, Jack.”

Jack sighed. “Ianto, that was Saturday night.”

“Right,” Ianto nodded, still confused.

“It’s Monday morning, now.”

Ianto frowned. “What?” He looked around, noting the morning light pouring into the window. No wonder the light had seemed all wrong. He thought he’d only been asleep for a few hours.

“Here,” Tosh sat the coffees down on the table and grabbed the bag of food from Jack. “Let’s get some food in you.”

Ianto’s confusion did not abate until the bacon sandwich was history and the egg sandwich had been tucked into. Jack and Tosh were pleased to see he had an appetite, at least. “I don’t know what happened,” he muttered.

“You went to storage?” Jack asked.

Ianto nodded, sighing. “It was harder than I thought it would be, but I’m glad it’s done, now.”

“I guess it took a lot out of you,” Tosh said quietly.

Ianto tossed the empty wrapper into the bag and rubbed his face. “I was confused because the light was all wrong. I slept deeply, but it didn’t seem like it had been more than a few hours.”

“Well you should be well-rested when you get back to work,” she smiled.

“Wednesday morning, bright and early,” Jack grinned. Then he turned serious. “Think you’re ready to come back?”

Ianto stared at the coffee cup in his hand, then shrugged. “I hope so,” he said. “Is,” he hesitated, then looked from Tosh to Jack. “Is it okay, for me to come back?”

“We want you back, Ianto,” Jack said, and Tosh nodded her agreement. “Are you okay? With staying?”

Ianto gave a half-hearted smile. “I’m grateful that Torchwood will still have me, Sir.”

“Then prove it,” Jack said lightly. At Ianto’s flinch, he quickly added, “Quit skipping meals, and take care of yourself.”

Ianto smiled. “I’ll do my best, Sir.”

“Good man,” Jack clapped him on the shoulder, and then he and Tosh left. Ianto spent the rest of the day camped out on his sofa, watching movies. It was as close to normal as he’d felt in five months.

***


End file.
